


I Know You Want to go to Heaven (But You're Human Tonight)

by Summertime_saddness



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Bisexual Carisi, Catholic Guilt, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, some past m/f mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summertime_saddness/pseuds/Summertime_saddness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafael smells like mint hair gel, hibiscus tea, old books and the cheap two dollar coffee from the cart outside of the court house. Dominick has no idea what do with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know You Want to go to Heaven (But You're Human Tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> Something quick and dirty (not that kind of dirty) I wrote after binge watching some episodes. I probably got a bunch of Carisi's cannon wrong, but I'm going off of what I can recall.

There was something about Rafael that Dominick couldn’t understand. 

Dominick spends hours in the churches he used to frequent as a child, walking along the empty pews, breathing in the faint smells of musty carpet, oil, and candle wax.

When he closes his eyes he can still feel his mother’s firm hand on his shoulder when he squirmed too much during prayer, hear the sounds of the scratches of the pen being used by one of the Deacon’s before the sermon had even begun, how he would watch the black ink spreading like spider webs across the fragile white pages.

His fingers would come away brown and musty smelling from when they pressed down against the Psalms during Sunday school, a Nun’s butter soft voice asking him to read aloud from the holy word, he had the best speaking voice of his 4th grade section even when he’s voice shakes at the scriptures on hellfire. 

He sung in the choir for every Christmas service until he was 17, echoes of Holy, Holy, Holy, filled his head when he first saw his girlfriend’s bare chest the night after senior prom. When he touched her breast underneath the dim lights of her childhood bedroom, he swore he knew what Jesus must have felt like, tempted in the desert by the Devil. But Dominick is no God, and he pulled her closer, pressed his lips to her skin and prayed: “Oh, God.”

 

He first learns about homosexuality when he is 9. He’s clutching on to his mother’s hand, even though his father says he’s too old for it, her palm is rough and slightly sweaty, his arms too long on a body that feels incomplete. He watches a man across from them on the Subway platform, with black skin and crossly cropped hair, lean over into the space of another man, a hug, an embrace. Their mouths touch and his mother yanks his hand and they walk, him half dragged, his mother muttering under her breath, “...sick.” 

At dinner his Mother reads to him passages from the Bible, holds his gaze firmly and explains to him about sin, the pit of fire waiting below.

“Some people are just so far from God.” She whispers into his hair. 

He nods seriously, his sweater feels itchy, the backs of his knees are covered in sweat, he swears he can feel the flames of hell already licking at his heels. 

 

He has a best friend, Johnny Castillo, who has thick black hair and a Brooklyn accent so strong, that the waiters in Queens can’t understand him when he tries to order coffee before class. Johnny plays baseball and always smells from healthy sweat, cotton, and bitter coffee; Dominick likes how he can still smell him on his arm when he goes to sleep at night, from where it was wrapped around Johnny’s shoulder in the hallways. 

Sometimes he wakes up, dick hard and stomach clutching, a half remembered dream of Johnny’s easy smile and overly loud laugh, the ghost feel of Johnny’s rough hands on Dominick's thighs as he spreads them. Dominick ignores them, finds his old bible in his sock drawer, reads about Revelations and checks to make sure his parents are still there down the hall and he didn’t miss the rapture. 

He blames teenage hormones, the fact that he isn’t getting any, that he’s 16 and still a virgin. He reads the porn magazines his friends pass around after school, jerks off in the bathroom to the images of the blonde women on the cover, spread out for him across the page. He doesn’t think about the way Johnny smells, or his crooked teeth, or how his eyes aren’t quite brown but aren’t really green either.

 

Rafael smells like mint hair gel, hibiscus tea, old books and the cheap two dollar coffee from the cart outside of the court house. Dominick has no idea what do with him.

Rafael presses his hand against Dominick's upper arm in greeting, talks to him intently about the law, like his mother would about the scripture, like his father would about a man, but Rafael doesn’t leave Dominick feeling like he needs to be fixed, that he isn’t enough. When Rafael moves his hand away it’s like Dominick's whole side on is on fire, a gentle warmth that wraps around his body and settles softly against his heart. 

They walk through the hallways together, heads turns towards each other, bodies pressed close, arguing about the latest case, about the state of law enforcement, where to get the best coffee, if physicals books are better than the Kindle. Dominick feels light when he’s with him and when he goes back to his desk at the station he can still smell the faint residue of mint hair hair gel and flowery tea on his clothes. 

Dominick gets grazed by a bullet on a routine stop gone wrong, it tears through his suit jacket, rips against the skin of his shoulder, a quick, painful spray of blood and flesh. Rafael shows up at his apartment later, still in his suit, briefcase in hand, eyes bright and wild. He stares at Dominick like he’s the toughest case he’s ever had to crack, like he’s the answer to an across state lines questions, the attention feels overwhelming and Dominick can only stare back. He feels unhinged. 

They drink too much Bourbon that Rafael brought, even though Dominick is on painkillers and they both have to work in the morning.

“I’m fine, really,” Dominick breathes when Rafael eyes his bandaged shoulder for the 100th time. “Just a scratch.” 

Rafael nods, scratches at his face, around the 5 o clock shadow Dominick has never seen before. He looks wild, and Dominick wonders if he feels as lost as Dominick feels. If he too can hear his father’s commandments what it meant to be a man in his head when he leans it too closely, if he can smell the candle wax and must of the cathedral filling up his nose.

“Is this..” Rafael begins slowly, tie askew, eyes wild. Dominick reaches out, puts his hand on his shoulder, moves it to drunkenly touch his face. Rafael grab his hand, presses it firmly against Rafael’s cheek before Dominick can move it away. 

“Is it?” Dominick sounds desperate, he’s panting, the back of his knees are sweaty, shirt damp. 

They stare at each other, hand over hand pressed to Rafael’s cheek. Dominick didn’t know that hellfire could feel so much like the warmth of a another body, he leans in, presses his lips to Rafael’s. Rafael gasps into his mouth, kisses him back, Dominick swears can hear the angels singing and Johnny Castillo's easy laugh somewhere in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> Title from Young God by Halsey.


End file.
